


to grit your teeth in pain

by Ekuhisu



Series: Chengyu [4]
Category: Black Clover - Tabata Yuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Black Bulls Squad as Family (Black Clover), Finral Roulacase Needs a Hug, Fluff, Gen, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Nozel Silva is a Good Brother, Protective Yami Sukehiro, The em dash is an incredibly versatile punctuation mark, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekuhisu/pseuds/Ekuhisu
Summary: Finral hadn’t assumed the job to be easy—in fact he was told just the opposite—but he certainly hadn’t foreseen his possible (definite) death.Or龇牙咧嘴
Relationships: Asta & Noelle Silva, Asta & Yami Sukehiro, Asta & Yuno (Black Clover), Black Bulls Ensemble & Finral Roulacase, Finral Roulacase & Langris Vaude, Finral Roulacase & Noelle Silva, Finral Roulacase & Yami Sukehiro, Noelle Silva & Nozel Silva
Series: Chengyu [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979699
Comments: 31
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

_The mission… hadn’t gone as expected._ A pathetic thought, Noelle thinks, for royalty after all. 

As royalty she shares a tacit knowledge with the rest of Clover. As royalty she has an unspoken duty to be the smartest, the most talented and level headed, the prettiest—the best. To be unfaltering no matter the threat. It’s her duty to be the best of those she meets. Superior, ~~so they feel safe~~. So they know their place.

But she always seems to fall short. Fall short of her siblings, destined to exist forever in their shadow. Is she in their shadow? 

Perhaps not, because when people see her they fail to think of Esteemed Captain Nozel’s little sister. They know her as the talentless parasite who’d killed that beloved woman. The defective one who’d joined the worst Magic Knights squad because of her own brother’s rejection. 

So, in a way she’d forged her own path. 

After meeting Asta, the Black Bulls, Kahono, all those who’d treated her with such kindness and camaraderie, the path she walked became tinged with what she’d never experienced. Happiness, hope.

To a life spun with such despair the whiplash of these experiences severely disrupted her values. Her views had been tossed out the window, murdered prostrate and bloody in the street, and for whom? Strangers.

The harmony to which this group of misfits resonate at is practically nonexistent. It’s discordant, unpleasant; and at first Noelle wanted nothing to do with them, those who went against all she’d been taught. 

She saw them merely as loud, graceless, improper, impulsive, ugly—the worst. To one taking a cursory glance they’re all these things; to one taking a long suffering look, they’re all these things and everything more. 

To Noelle they’re these things—the worst. No matter the stretch of time she spends with them they never change. They never will change. And for her, no longer tethered by her initial distaste and fear, she’s allowed herself to see that no matter what, the Black Bulls won’t let her sink back into despair.

And though she’d never admit it, she loves them with all her heart.

Snapping just below the elbow, Asta’s arms bend at odd angles as he lies unconscious in the leaves. Only looking at them Noelle could tell the bones were a mess, poking out beneath the skin. She could imagine all the pieces they’d broken into underneath.

The gruesome sight makes her eyes water with unexpelled vomit. Though her urge to puke also sources strongly back to her pounding head, likely a concussion, caused by the rock man towering before her.

Without mana skin, Asta had protected her at the cost of his arms. Which without immediate treatment, Noelle fears may be unsalvageable. Although he’d tried to shield her with his sword, the unmitigated force dispelled by this creature was enough to launch them both into a tree; which Noelle had no idea could be so unforgiving.

A similar thing to the sweat she feels trickling down her back manifests on her forehead, singular, thick, and sluggish in its path. Then Noelle wonders if the _sweat_ colors her brow with red. She stands up, wobbling, her back aching from the impact. 

Wiping her forehead with an arm she’s met with a blood and sweat soaked sleeve. It’s just as she feared then, and after standing up her compulsion to vomit had increased tenfold. Her head throbs incessantly and she, to an immense degree, desires a bath of ice and a dark hole. Absently she wonders how Asta can fight for so long after getting slammed into walls repeatedly. 

Noelle struggles to piece one thought to another as confusion clouds her thoughts like an opaque mist. 

They’d been ambushed. Noelle’s unsure of who by, but the air tastes of blood and ripples with belligerence. She can sense a deep seated fury behind this magic. It tells her that the assailant won’t stop until they’re dead. 

Just as things had stopped, Noelle is propelled back into a fight for her life as well as Asta’s. 

The rock man rushes them, though not alone this time. From the ground comes more of them. Noelle, in a fit of fear and instinct, throws up a shield in time to protect them both. 

In that moment, she resolves to herself that she’ll save them both.

The creatures pound furiously at her magic. Noelle tries to think of a strategy, but before she can even begin the earth beneath her surges up, catching her in the ribs. 

Her magic flickers allowing the rock men closer as she coughs up bile and blood. 

The rock man’s fist greets her face, knocking her back into Asta. Her teeth clack against each other painfully and her right eye hurts to such a degree that she can barely open it. 

Drawing her wand she casts spells at them blindly. She feels some of them make contact but it’s not nearly enough as a group breaks through the wave of magic. Their forms sail toward her. 

Noelle clutches her side. She grits her teeth. She hadn’t wanted to use this spell, but from her wand comes a sea dragon, roaring loud enough to drown out the buzzing of this horrendous magic. Nothing escapes her spell, the rest of the rock men are gone returning as dust to the earth.

All is quiet for a moment and Noelle thinks they’ve won.

The wind screams in outrage as the trees creak with fury. A malicious energy pulses through the earth leaching into the air. It winds around Noelle, Asta and the space around them. 

Noelle struggles onto her feet, lifting her head. Her ribs rattle with each breath. 

Though the rock men had been destroyed, the magic remains heavy in the air. It hangs over Noelle’s head like an executor’s axe. 

Her sight’s shot, her vision blurs as if full of tears. She closes her eyes, hanging her head; trying to sense the magic, trying to ignore the fear that coats her throat. With a sickening lurch of the stomach Noelle realizes she can’t pinpoint where it's coming from. 

The heaviness of this mana bruises her chest as she tries to breathe. 

Noelle wonders if she and Asta will die like this. Suffocated by an unknown entity, though she doubts Asta can feel it, on a mission with little bearing to Clover. 

She relinquishes a defeated sob, imagining her family. How they would never acknowledge her. How her death would mean nothing to them. But Vanessa’s face crashes through her thoughts. The Black Bulls. How could she forget? 

Noelle digs her nails into her palms, raising her head. That’s right. She can’t die. Not until she sees them again. Not until the Black Bulls become number one. She looks back at Asta’s barely conscious form. 

Not until Asta becomes the Wizard King. 

Then she feels it. The magic centralizes onto a spot before her rank and dense—evil. It presses against her, nearly forcing her back to the ground. And if she tries, through all the cacophony of noise, she can hear a spell being chanted. 

_This spell—will kill us._ And she’s out of magic. 

“Asta!”

Even if he’d heard her, there’s no time. The spell had fired, catching Noelle off guard and weak. Through her near blindness the approaching spell blurs simply into a shade of copper. 

Despite her resolution to survive—

Emerging from the mass of copper, green encompasses Noelle’s vision. From the green comes a beautiful gray-blue which swallows the spell. The world hushes for a heartbeat, filled only by the ringing of Noelle’s ears. 

Then in a moment the copper’s back, though nowhere near her. A portal opens and from it comes the copper spell, shooting back at their enemy. It decimates them—or so she hopes—and a large expanse of forest with it. 

Once the earth stops shaking, “Finral?” she says. From his back can see the state he’s in. 

Finral collapses to his knees choking out a laugh in what Noelle thinks is relief. He turns to her giving her an unclear view of the bloody mess that is his body. This time her eyes really do fill with tears. 

Noelle relaxes against the ground, falling forward onto his chest supported by blood slick hands. She’s never been so close to Finral, but from him the warmth and compassion she feels, makes her never want to let go. 

“I could have handled it myself… you know,” she says, her voice cracking on a sob. “But—thank you.”

Noelle thinks she can see his lips quirk as he pets her hair. “Don’t mention it kid,” he says, “After all, what kind of senior would I be if I couldn’t even protect my cute little juniors.”

Noelle smiles, sniffling. 

He looks around, cautious. “I don’t have much magic left, but with luck I can get you both to the Capitol.”

She sits up, nodding at him. Anxiety gnaws at her when she registers that he didn’t include himself. She wipes her eyes and turns to Asta. He looks even worse than before, sporting a head injury Noelle had no idea he possessed. His arms had turned a purplish brown. 

He needs help.

A thought occurs to Noelle. She places a hand on Asta, contemplative. “If you send him alone will you be able to get him straight to Owen?”

Noelle can hear the frown in his voice. “Perhaps. When I run low on mana my accuracy and range decreases. Sending Asta alone will allow me to focus all my efforts on him.”

Noelle clutches Asta’s cloak, she’d lost her own in the chaos. Her remaining clothes are soaked with blood and torn to an unrecognizable point. “Then there’s no choice.” 

She wants to go home, be free of this nightmare. At this point she’s not even sure standing would be possible. Her mana’s drained leaving her cold and hollow; but she can’t leave Finral, she won’t. 

She can hear Finral stand up behind her. He sighs, “You’re right.” 

Noelle smiles softly petting Asta’s head, taking a last look at his face. But no, this won’t be the last time. _I’ll see you again, Dorksta._

She may have spoken too soon.

Dread swirls in her chest when she hears the crackling of trees. The air permeates with a rank mana. It’s back.

She braces herself, holding on to the belief that Asta will make it out. She and Finral will just have to hold out until help comes. But just as she’s about to stand and join Finral, the faint jingling of his magic fills the space. 

Underneath her all she sees is a vastness of greyish blue. She turns to Finral. His kind eyes stare back at her. 

He smiles—her eyes widen in realization. 

“Fin—

…

Finral really hadn’t been able to catch a break. His last day off feels like a year ago and his next day off seems even further away. Although it could be worse. At least it’s quiet, many of his squad mates having retired for the night. Except one, and it’s when he’s doing paperwork that night he feels the weight on his chest grow ever larger. 

Yami walks into the common room. “Ah Finral, just the man I was looking for.”

Finral gets a feeling telling him that he doesn’t want to be the man Yami’s looking for. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to ward off the fatigue. He really shouldn’t have delayed this work. 

“Captain?”

Yami hands him a small folder. “Take a look.”

Finral opens it. There’s not much to see, about two pages of information. The issue lies within a town in the Common Realm, residing at the doorstep of the Noble Realm. You’re at the threshold of greatness, how does it feel to know you’ll never get there, Finral muses. But nobles are not a great thing in the slightest, you’re better off staying away. 

He finds it a little strange that a Magic Knights squad was assigned to handle a request from the Commons. The report filed details a string of disappearances which occurred within a forest nearby. Apparently it was a popular hunting spot for the townspeople, though not anymore. Seven months ago, a hunting party had gone in as scheduled; they never returned. After that, a group of twenty or so went in search of them. They also never returned. Ever since people seldom go there.

 _Seven months?_ Finral thinks. The report must have just been processed. “Are we taking this mission together?” Finral asks. 

Yami takes a puff of his cigarette. “No, I have a Captain's meeting tomorrow.” He grins. “So, have fun.”

Finral frowns. Yes, he definitely doesn’t want to be the man Yami’s looking for. He gets up, stretching. He dreads the mess altering his schedule will be. 

He sighs, when he still feels Yami standing behind him. “Do you need me to portal you there tomorrow?”

Yami cocks his head. “Well of course.”

Finral groans. _Of course._ He gathers his papers.

“Oh, one more thing. This’ll be a dangerous mission, so go ahead and take whoever’s free.” Yami pats his head, smiling. “We wouldn’t want that pretty face of yours getting all torn up.”

Finral blinks then laughs nervously. 

The head pats turn more aggressive as Yami says, “Now open a portal, I gotta take a shit.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“Finral!” Asta shouts, reaching for him. He doesn’t quite get there though.

Really, Finral isn’t a clumsy person. If anything he prides himself on the agility necessary for being a capable special mage—not that he thinks he’s especially capable or anything. Although he does like to believe that if the moment arises he’ll be skillful enough to maneuver out of a tough spot. 

But he’d overestimated himself; he’d hesitated.

Asta’s panicked expression disappears from view as Finral falls further down. The ground had collapsed beneath him. 

Yami had said this would be a dangerous mission. What’s worse is that Finral’s definition of “dangerous” largely differs from Yami’s. Finral’s being the more mild case. 

He really should have forced Vanessa, Gauche, or even Gordon to come with—the others having been busy—just to be safe. Instead he’d gone with Asta, who’d come just cause it’s a mission, and Noelle, who’d come because of Asta. 

What’s even worse is that he wasn’t standing near the edge, the ground had simply given way. _Damn his luck really is shit._

The cliff was high, but not high enough to allow him more than 3 seconds of reaction time. His vision fills with rocks and sky, neither of which he could use to transport back up. So he clenches his teeth, and forces from his fingers a portal.

He uses his spatial magic to break his fall in part, but embarrassingly hits his head hard enough for his vision to fade black.

When he wakes up about two minutes later he finds his head glued to the ground by a pool of his own blood. Most of it sourcing back to a shallow cut on his forehead and not a concussion as he’d initially thought.

He couldn’t sense Noelle’s mana anywhere near him. He sits up quickly thinking they couldn’t have gone that far. But he doesn’t have the time to dwell in it as the clacking of rocks meets his ears. 

He barely has time to dodge the large fist that comes his way. 

…  
  


A plus side of being the Golden Dawn’s Vice Captain is that he can get the lower ranking members to perform tasks he has little time for, a downside is that most of his work is top secret meaning he has to do all of it himself. But he’s used to it. His entire life’s been a quill and paper; accomplishments he couldn’t care less about and his mother’s praise. 

His back aches from being hunched over in the library all night. This recent case had thrown him for a loop and he wasn’t quite sure where to begin. But that comes with the territory he supposes. And he appreciates the library’s dry silence and pleasant smell. 

He sighs and decides to turn in for the night—or morning. He looks outside seeing the sun begin to rise. Other Golden Dawn members will be getting up by now. Langris runs a hand through his hair. He should fly back to headquarters before anyone sees him so unkempt and exhausted.

He packs his things carefully, letting his train of thought wander for once—

A crack of wind batters the walls of the hallway. Langris turns in time to see a blur of black before it’s gone. The blur progresses so fast the aftershocks of it manifest as a light breeze on Langris’ face. Despite the fact that he stands more than 5 meters away and the thing moves perpendicular to him.

Langris rushes to the library’s opening, in time to see something he can recognize speed walk past. Klause Lunettes?

“Yuno, no broom riding in the halls,” he vocalizes, at the cusp of yelling but not quite. Although he’s trying to catch what Langris assumes to be the number one rookie, Yuno, he continues to follow the rules of no running or yelling. How amusing. 

He pokes his head out of the library seeing Klaus disappear from sight by turning a corner. Langris shifts his bag, planning to return to his workplace as an extra ensurance that he’d grabbed everything, when he hears Klaus say, “I’m just as worried about Asta and the others, but…” 

Langris strains his ears at the mention of Asta’s name. The Black Bulls boy. At first he thinks, _Did something happen?_

He closes his eyes willing the thought away. 

Then he hears the clacking of heeled boots approaching. When he opens his eyes he sees Mimosa Vermillion jogging down the hall. Upon spotting Langris she stops in front of him looking nervous. 

“O-oh! Vice Captain Langris,” she bows deeply. “I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

Langris waves it off. “It’s alright.” He looks back to the left as if he could still see Klaus’ retreating form. “What’s going on?”

The Vermillion girl straightens. She looks to the left as well, anxious. Langris’ curiosity peaks. “Some the the Black Bulls just returned from a mission.” She chews her lip nervously. “It didn’t go well.”

Horrid worry and dread tangles within Langris. He purses his lips striving to prevent his face from crumpling, attempting to ward off those crippling emotions. 

_Why am I getting flustered?_

He’d only heard about that noisy muscle freak. It’s not like Fin—

No, why does he care? He doesn’t.

“Oh,” he expresses, indifferent, trying to quell the want to ask “who else?”.

Mimosa turns back to him. Her eyes full of worry and her brows drawn with concern. Langris thinks of her as an easy read, an open book; simple. She’s like his brother, sharing a kindness which will inevitably lead to haplessness. They are by nature hapless. Yet at least Mimosa serves a purpose, she acts as a paramount complement to any magic knights squad.

She’s worth something.

Mimosa gets a face like she’s about to say something. Langris detests those who are easy to read. They’re predictable and careless with their expressions. 

“Vice Captain,” she says, forlorn, “Finral was with them.”

It takes a moment for the thought to register. Langris beats down the hysterical noise that tries to claw its way up his throat. 

Instead it comes out as a huff of laughter.

Mimosa takes a quiet step forward. “Vice Captain Langris,” she says his name with sympathy and understanding. It jars against him like a cheese grater over skin. 

Langris smiles easily. “I’ll see you back at headquarters.” _Please convince me to stay._ He takes a right turn, waving a farewell to her. 

Mimosa makes an unsettled noise. However she doesn’t dwell on his strange behavior for long, because in the next moment she’s running off in the opposite direction. 

He can’t help but want her to call after him. 


	3. Chapter 3

Asta and Noelle don’t land in Owen’s office but about 3 kilometers short, in the center of the Capitol’s shopping district. 

It’s late—has it only been less than a day?—and the sun had just set. The square’s less full than usual but that doesn’t mean it’s empty. The people around them gasp and scream in horror. Noelle thinks it’s largely directed towards Asta, though she’s sure she doesn’t look too hot as well. 

A few moments pass, too many as Noelle scans the area frantically, searching for some allies. She can’t spot any Magic Knights.

Then Asta groans, forcing her attention back to him. The sound gives her a view of his bloody teeth. His eyes flutter open, scrunch up, then squeeze closed again. “N—Noelle?”

Noelle would answer but then she feels a stifling heat to the side of her face. She recognizes the mana. 

“What—the fuck?” 

She flinches and turns to the imposing figure. Mereoleona stands before her, looking rather perturbed. Her arms filled with what looks like groceries? Despite the situation Noelle briefly wonders if she does her own cooking. 

“Mereoleona…”

Wordlessly Mereoleona pulls out her communicator. 

“M-Mereoleona?” Noelle says again, nervous.

She flicks the device on. “Owen, get your ass over here.”

Owen moves swiftly, needing little explanation by the Vermillion woman. 

Noelle appreciates Mereoleona’s reluctance to move Asta until Owen arrives, no doubt unsure if he could handle riding on a broom. But Noelle could tell the woman was getting impatient. Something which is certainly made worse by the gasping, groaning sounds uttered by Asta as he attempts to speak.

Noelle thinks in order for Mereoleona to remove her mind from the state of her former disciples, she takes to yelling at the surrounding patrons, ordering them to clear the area—amongst other things. Noelle finds that bit quite unnecessary. She’d be embarrassed if all her attention hadn’t been focused on the squadmate drowning in immense pain.

Noelle, for a moment, wonders if knocking him out would spare him some agony. But viewing at the mess that is Asta’s head she thinks better of it, also realizing that she doesn’t have the stomach. 

“N—

Asta hacks, sputtering and getting bloody spittle all over his lips. 

_Please don’t speak Asta._ She wants to say but her tongue rests thick and heavy in her mouth. All she can do is sit there and hold his head. Her eyes burn with unshed tears. 

Within minutes of calling Owen, he flies in with a group of gray clad medical staff. Two carry a bed-like contraption with straps. For Asta, Noelle thinks. 

She’s reluctant to let go of him but with Owen’s kind face and calm assurances she relinquishes him to them. 

The medical staff handle him with the utmost care, carrying him up evenly, steadily. 

She hears Owen talk to Mereoleona above her, saying something like: “Can you handle her?”, and “I’ll meet you in the infirmary.” Noelle desperately wants to go with them but instead, now that Asta’s safe, her focus jerks to Finral. 

Owen hops onto his broom preparing to follow the medics but before he can leave Noelle surges forward latching onto his coat.

He pauses, looking confused. 

The tears in Noelle’s eyes finally spill over at the sound of her own miserable sob. She expresses the thought directing her mind. 

“Please… save him.” 

It’s a plea directed towards someone, anyone who’ll listen. 

Owen smiles kindly. He gently removes her hand from his coat. “I’ll do my best.”

Dismay pierces Noelle at Owen’s misinterpretation of her words. Out of energy, she collapses. She feels Mereoleona take her into strong arms as she’s carried like a small child. The strength to hold her eyes open dwindles as the last thing she sees is Mereoleona’s determined expression. She doesn’t have the strength to correct Owen, though she hopelessly needs to. 

When she finally falls unconscious her last thought is of Finral.

…

It’d been more than a few hours since the young bulls had arrived in the Capitol. The sun had gone down long ago and the new day approaches rapidly. So far she’s heard nothing from Owen and Noelle’s room had only just opened up to visitation. During that waiting period, quite a few things had been needling at Mereoleona, the chief of those thoughts being: _Where the fuck is Yami?_

She’d seen him earlier that day—or should she say yesterday?—during the Captain's meeting. Of course she’d go get him herself but she finds herself unable to, viewing Noelle’s vulnerable form. Someone has to look after her, it’s Yami’s job to keep track of his subordinates. _Lazy ass_.

Mereoleona scratches her head. But she really is awful when it comes to dealing with vulnerable people, especially kids. Although she supposes at this point she’s not dealing with anyone. Noelle lays supine and paler than the sheets. Her hair fans around her head like… a fan. 

The image—memory—that her mind supplies when viewing Noelle’s frail state is one she’d rather not think of. 

_But they have the same nose._

Mereoleona shakes the thought from her head. She clenches her fists and sits up straighter. It’s at this moment Owen decides to enter. 

He pulls off a pair of blue gloves, something Mereoleona sees all the medics wear. She wonders what purpose they serve, especially since Owen’s magic is noncontact. Seeing his exhausted but collected expression, Mereoleona relaxes adopting an air of nonchalance. Although, she thinks, he’s always been adept at hiding things. 

“How’s the kid?”

Owen makes a face, disquieted. “Well, him arriving when he did was a miracle.”

Mereoleona scrunches her nose in irritation. She despises vague chit-chat. “What does that _mean_ , Owen.”

He rubs the back of his neck, muttering something like, “How to explain…”

Walking closer to her, he crosses his arms. “Well, I suspect he’ll make a full recovery. And because this is Asta we’re talking about he’ll be right as rain by the Royal Knights Exam.” 

Owen puts a hand to his chin. “Probably.”

Mereoleona nods, not commenting on the… colorful variety of injuries she’d seen from him on a surface level. Her eyes flick back to Noelle. The question of her well-being tipping her tongue, but instead she asks, “What do you think happened?”

Owen makes a thoughtful noise. “We’re not sure. I filed a request for the mission overview, but it’s taking awhile. Knowing Yami I wouldn’t be surprised if this was an unregistered job he found nailed to a tree.”

She growls at that. _Yami_. “Where is he anyway? His absence is starting to piss me off.”

Owen laughs, “Never thought I’d hear someone wanting Yami to—ahem, right.” He looks away to the window. “I’d planned to have Cob retrieve him once the sun comes up.” The pitch blackness of outside begins fading to a dark grey. “It won’t be long now and with him here we might be able to garner some insight.”

“I see.” Mereoleona grins. “I’ll do it. Just have someone direct me to Cob’s quarters.”

Owen swallows. “Um, sure.” 

Just as Mereoleona’s about to get up Owen stops her. He pulls a sheet of paper from his coat. “Oh, I came in here to give you this. An apprentice of mine tended to her.” He hands Mereoleona the sheet. “Here’s his report.”

On top of Mereoleona not understanding any of the medical terms and analysis, the handwriting could only be described as illegible. She must have seemed visibly confused because the next thing Owen says is, “He’ll be back to check her condition later, feel free to ask him anything then.”

Mereoleona glares at him. “Bold of you to assume I’d need help understanding something so simple, _Owen_.”

He purses his lips, then points to her hand, “Ah, Captain.”

Her clenched fist contains the report. But where a crumpled sheet of paper would be salvageable, this was most certainly not, seeing as it’d caught fire. In moments it’d burned to ash collecting quietly on the floor. 

Mereoleona frowns, crushing the pile with her boot. “Really Owen, such important documents should be more durable.”

Owen sighs tiredly, removing his glasses. He rubs his temples in exasperation. Then he does something which she doesn’t expect. He looks back to her, smiling. 

Mereoleona wonders if she’s seeing things or if simply that his mental and physical strain has finally seized him.

“Please Captain, don’t be in such haste to leave,” he says, similar to that of an idiot. Like she has the time to dally around. “It’d be good for Noelle to have a familiar face around.” She scoffs. Owen couldn’t possibly be implying that she leave retrieving Yami to that spineless creature Cob. More so than that it wouldn’t be half as much fun. 

She discards the feeling telling her, as Owen implied in so many words, staying here with Noelle would benefit Mereoleona too. 

If that _were_ the case, well then she’d just have to have some words with him; and besides if he has the energy to notice silly little things like that, then he has the strength to get Noelle up and walking. Although by then he’d already left the room.

In any case, there’s few things she hates more than being predictable and if Owen can read her she really must be losing her edge. There’s even fewer things she hates more than the Capitol.

Fuegoleon better haul ass out of bed because soon enough Mereoleona won’t accept a missing arm as an excuse. 

…

Magna and Luck walk into the common room. “After a grueling job there’s nothing like a scalding hot bath, eh Luck?”

Luck sighs dolefully, “I guess.” He gazes at his previously blood-soaked hands longingly. 

Magna had to force him to wash up. He scrutinizes him, narrowing his eyes, “Weird.” Pulling his attention from Luck Magna flops onto a couch, sighing contentedly. 

Vanessa, who's draped casually on an armchair, holds a book. The title contains the words Wealth and Free—both things Magna immensely enjoys—and Tax—es. Taxes? Magna thinks he’s heard of those before. He waves it off, unbothered. Finral handles all that stuff anyway.

She slams the book shut, groaning. Turning to Magna she says, “When’d you two get back?”

He shrugs. “Not too long ago.” Around Vanessa he looks for empty wine or whiskey bottles and such. Finding nothing of the sort thoroughly perplexes him. “Shouldn’t you be passed out drunk by now? Why’re you up so early?”

Vanessa sighs, “Couldn’t sleep. I’d drink but as of late Finral hides the alcohol when he goes on missions without me.” She yawns, “And going to bars is no fun without some company.”

He looks around the room, noticing the lack of commotion. “Is that where Asta and the others are?”

Vanessa stretches her arms above her head. “Yeah he’s out with Noelle and Finral. They were assigned a mission.”

Magna nods. Gauche and Gordon are gone too, he thinks. He wonders if those two had gone back to the library for one of their researching frenzies.

The door slams open. 

“Fuck.” Yami utters, walking in. His eyes shadowed by what Magna assumes is his shit mood caused by his clear lack of self control when it comes to drinking. Yami holds his head, his brows scrunched in pain. Magna also thinks he hears him say. “Fucking braided bangs man.” Or something along those lines. 

He seems upset. 

As the Captain's subordinate he has a job to cheer him up! Manga jumps up. “Sir, Yami, sir!” He salutes. “What can I do for you Captain?”

Yami glares down at him. “Shut up.”

Magna nods exuberantly. “Yes, sir!”

Yami sighs, rubbing his temples. He collapses onto a nearby armchair. 

Vanessa titters. “Looks like someone had a good time last night. How was the meeting?” 

Yami grumbles but doesn’t respond. 

Magna gasps. “Did something happen Captain Yami!” He forms a fireball. “Who do I need to incinerate?” 

Luck jumps up, “Oh me too!” he raises his hand excitedly. “Captain if I kill them will you spar with me?”

The main door swings open, interrupting the Captain's would be answer. It cracks against the wall, bouncing back into the visitor’s face. The visitor, a tall fiery woman, punches the door once more, nearly tearing it off its hinges. 

Magna places the familial resemblance immediately, but he’s not quite sure of her name. Luckily Yami supplies it. 

“Sisgoleon?” Yami mutters.

As if Mereoleona would sit around a hospital room. What a highly inefficient suggestion. 

At the earliest showing of light she’d kicked open Cob’s door, tasking him with this highly important job. Where Mereoleona’s concerned, any task at any time is reasonable as long as the sun is shining.

After emerging from the ornate gate generated by Cob’s spatial magic her eyes meet the precariously shaped building. She’d never seen the Bulls’ base before but she recognizes that it's certainly something Yami would choose. 

How problematic, she thinks. And problematic it is. No doubt because of the faulty hinges Mereoleona has to force the door open twice. 

She’s met with the varying expressions of three other Black Bulls members, one of which looking concerningly maniacal.

“What a surprise, Yami. I never expected to see you up so early.”

Yami sits up annoyed. He groans, “Seeing you once this week was enough for me. What gives?”

Mereoleona frowns. “You should be pleased I even bothered to come here.” Before Yami can retort she continues, “I figured it would be prudent to deliver this message in person.” 

The pink one looks up, alert. “What do you mean?” Her concern prompts the others to tune in as well.

Yes, she’d certainly heard how tight-knit this group of misfits was. But she hadn’t quite seen it first hand. So she draws the conclusion of Asta and Noelle’s lack of visitation simply being caused by miscommunication. 

Mereoleona’s frown deepens when she says, “Some hours ago your squadmates returned from what we assume was a mission gone bad.” The room bursts with tension, brimming with questions. But instead of being bombarded by them each bull remains quiet, allowing her to continue.

“Noelle and Asta have been treated.” She crosses her arms. “But despite that they’re both still unconscious.”

The room takes a quiet second to process. Then the pink one asks, “What about Finral?”

Mereoleona blinks. “Who?” The bulls don’t seem to like that. A wave of animosity ripples across the room, though not entirely directed towards her. 

Finral? She’d only heard the name used in reference to the Vaude family’s eldest son. Is that who they mean? Did Ledior’s eldest son join the Black Bulls?

“You mean the Vaude boy?” At her words the bulls share a collective sigh of relief. Mereoleona puts a hand to her chin. That clears one mystery, but not the other. “What about him?” 

In clamorous panic and quite literally—with a show of lightning, fire, and mana—the room explodes.

…

Asta can’t recall the last time he’d seen Yuno cry. No, wait he can recall. 

They’d been kids if he remembers correctly. But, with how he suffers currently, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to remember correctly ever again. 

He feels as though someone had removed his head, kicked it around for a bit, then reattached it erroneously. And his arms feel as if someone had done the same thing to them but 100 times over.

He’s not sure if the sight of a grown-up Yuno with red-rimmed eyes had merely been generated by the immense agony, or if instead it was simply his own tears distorting things. 

He doesn’t dwell on it for long though because he quickly falls out of consciousness. 

When he wakes once more the Yuno he sees is certainly not a dream. He’s most definitely real. Asta can feel his calloused palm intertwined with Yuno’s significantly less calloused palm. Yes, quite real.

“Asta!” The voice he hears is decidedly not Yuno’s, however. The concern he feels from Klaus is tangible. He flutters around Asta as if afraid to touch him. 

Asta swallows, painfully. He licks his lips wetting them, though they still crack when he speaks. “Klaus— 

He coughs lightly, the action causing small reverberations of pain through his chest and shoulders. He winces slightly.

Klaus jumps like a startled animal. He leans over Asta. “Oh my! Are you alright?” At the lack of verbal response, he straightes, determined. “I’ll go get Owen!” And off out the door he goes. The door which Asta watches swing back and forth for a bit. 

There’s something he wants quite a bit more than a visit from the old man, actually. 

Next Asta feels a light breeze caress his face. It winds down around his legs and under his back, moving him into a slight upright position. It’s gentle and painless.

In his peripheral Asta sees a wax coated paper cup. Yuno holds it quietly. 

Asta makes no move to grab it, seeing as one of his hands is occupied by Yuno himself. But, even if it were free, he’s not sure he’d be able to lift either. 

With the next few events that transpire, Asta wants to retract his affirmation of this being reality. 

Yuno stands slightly to lean partially over Asta. He thinks he can feel Yuno squeeze his hand briefly before letting go. 

Grabbing the base of Asta’s skull he angles it up. The grip he has on his head is slight, but somewhat pleasant. Yuno brings the cup to Asta’s lips, which he parts, swallowing the cool water that flows past.

In that moment Asta’s allowed a few moments of bliss and reprieve for his dry throat and pounding head. But with excessive abruptness Yuno pulls the cup away. Asta clenches his teeth and whines in frustration. 

The wind mage frowns. “Asta, you’ll choke.”

Ignoring Yuno, Asta tries to follow the retracting slice of heaven, but he doesn't have the strength. He falls back against the pillows, glaring at him petulantly.

Yuno rolls his eyes in response. 

Asta can feel his brain work slower than normal. Piecing thoughts together feels like running through waist deep water. Finally what he’s been searching for, something he’d sensed to be very important, comes to the forefront of his mind. 

“Noelle—Finral, where are they?”

Yuno pauses, a second before he can respond the door opens. Instead of Klaus or Owen, Yami walks in, nonchalant as ever. 

Yami raises his eyebrows and grins. “Oh good, you’re awake. Saves me some time then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah got halfway through this chapter when I realized I have no idea how to write Mereoleona’s character. 
> 
> Anyway please leave feedback!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am tired

Noelle and Asta disappear into the void. Never to be seen again, Finral thinks, by him at least. 

He’d always been a bit theatric where injuries were concerned—either to make someone or himself laugh—though this time he feels a bit of dramatics is well deserved. His thoughts catch on each other like blissful inebriation—though he doesn’t usually partake. He falls into the mud, his knees tear on jagged rocks. He catches himself on his left wrist, his right crushed to pieces, from the mere pressure of the spell he’d deflected.

That spell which is aimed at him once more.

He stands at the threshold of death, in more ways than one. He can feel his body shutting down from either blood loss or magic exhaustion. And even now the mana behind him congeals and swells like it had before. This energy threaded in the earth, vibrates under his fingers.

What a strange place. 

Although perhaps it’s a blessing. The earth and trees seem to have quieted somewhat. It lacks the same indignance and fury. So, even if it’s painful at least it’ll be quick. Dying by that of pure magic energy is decidedly better than being beaten to death by an army of rocks, or strangled by the roots—which evidently had tripped him multiple times in his own small battles. 

As the buzzing fills his ears, Finral thinks he could die happy. He wouldn’t be fulfilled—because what did he do with his life? But he’s content in the knowledge that Asta and Noelle are safe. And he feels full of regrets, but he can’t pinpoint the ones that matter.

He looks to his hands through heavy eyes laden with dark circles, which always seem to appear due to excessive magic use. Yami’s voice rings through his head telling him to _surpass his limits_. He smiles at that, but he’s not sure—

…

Yuno frowns. Making a move to stand, he glares, grousing, “Where the fuck have you—

“Asta!” A blend of voices exclaim in varying levels of volume. The room floods with similarly varying colors of hair and clothing, save for the shared cloak draped across their shoulders.

“Asta,” The pink one says again, quieter. She pushes past Yami and hurries over, immediately taking a seat beside him. A nurturing aura exudes from her, something Yuno expected least from such a brash group. Comfort and ease radiates from Asta in return at the sight of her. 

This moment, however, is disrupted by the raucous addition of a delinquent and a boy too cheery for the situation. Those two are accompanied by an even stranger pair, a man bleeding profusely from the nose and one donning ghoulish face paint. The Black Bulls really are an oddity.

Ready to oust these unwelcome visitors, Yuno realizes their appearance is in no way unwanted.

Having known Asta for all his life, Yuno’s aware of his requisite for interpersonal connections. These guests are the embodiment of that and of the connections he’d formed. 

Despite knowing this, in a surge of emotion he can’t name, Yuno’s hand tightens on Asta’s as he moves closer, cautious. 

He watches the woman hug him tight and fret over him so visually. Judging from the bulls’ intense moods, they’d certainly pile on him if his condition were different. The relief emanating from the Magic Knights, though not entirely visible, is staggering. It’s then Yuno can clearly see the disparity between them. The Golden Dawn and the Black Bulls. Although he quickly realizes relief isn’t the only emotion ladening the air. 

A dark thing swirls around the room and loud, loud warning bells ring in Yuno’s mind as he silently understands never to cross the Black Bulls.

Their Sunlander Captain, as he’d been called, wastes no time in questioning Asta. He gets to the point immediately—Finral Roulacase.

“What happened out there, Asta?” Captain Yami asks, straightforward as ever.

Asta takes a moment to process the question. He feels Vanessa squeeze his hand in assurance. His mouth works as he tries to find the right words but even then they don’t come out right. “We’re attacked… by somethin’.”

Magna grinds his teeth, making a fist, smoldering and warming the air. Gauche frowns, crossing his arms. “What do you mean?”

Luck pokes his head out from behind Gordon. “Yeah, yeah!” He smiles horrifically. “Who did it?” Gordon nods in solemn agreement.

Asta turns his gaze to the ceiling. He hadn’t seen much of anything. He lacks the ability to sense mana but even then he could tell something was off. As they’d traveled further into the forest, searching for Finral, he distinctly remembers the breeze, how it’d carried a heavy taste of metal. The air forced its way into his lungs as if trying to crush him from the inside out. He recalls Noelle’s complaint of it.

Noelle. Finral.

His mind promptly shifts from their immediate questions to some of his own. “How’m I here?” He pulls himself up, despite Yuno’s hand, warning against it. “Where’re Noelle and Finral?”

Vanessa places a light hand on his leg simply saying: “Noelle’s safe.”

Asta’s stomach falls so forcefully his injuries ache anew from the shock. “Finral?” Vanessa smiles tightly and before he could really process the non-answer. Magna clarifies, “We were hoping you’d tell us.”

He shakes his head as much as he can. He tries to express that he doesn’t know but his mouth won’t form the words. His brain catches up all of a sudden. “He’still ‘ere?” Asta’s speech slurs together in his outburst, the words not forming as they should. 

From the frustration or something else, Asta’s forehead beads with sweat; his houghs and underarms become slick with it. His view of them distorts completely as his pulse does something funny, and his body prickles with heat, burning in his cheeks.

He could tell they were making noise all around him, but the words were lost somewhere. 

It’s then Owen arrives with Klaus in tow, though Yuno hardly notices because, evidently, it doesn’t concern him much. Asta’s glassy eyes stare at him as Yuno holds his small, feverish body with slick hands. And Yuno thinks he feels his bottom lip tremble as his body fills with anger. 

What could have done this?

He groans quietly and Yuno can feel Asta’s pulse thundering against his chest. “Y…no.”

**Who did this?**

Faintly he hears cursing and scrambling. The air crackles with static as he soon feels hands pulling at him, hot and full of aggression.

Owen makes it into his line of sight which consists largely of Asta. The back of the man’s head obstructs his view, irking him to no end. He can’t do much about it though, the hands which seemed to have grown in number pull him, kicking and fuming, away from Asta.

“Let go!” They don’t heed his warning. 

Yuno’s magic surges from him, unfettered and visceral. His emotions and magic are accordant in their objective. Asta’s merely a few feet away, shielded by Owen whose back faces him. But before he can do much of anything his head jerks back, numbness spreading from the nape to the rest of his body.

…

_Dark Magic: Dark Cloaked Avidya Blunt Strike._

The Golden Dawn boy hits the floor like a sack of potatoes. His head cracks unpleasantly against the tile. _And it’s out of the ballpark, folks_ . _Nice swing Yami._ He preens. Although he can’t help but feel for the kid. The aftermath of that spell will be a whole other shit fest.

“Magna.” Yami gestures to the prone kid. 

Magna crawls up off the floor with Luck, Gordon, and Gauche, still recovering from his reckless outburst of mana. “Yes, sir!” He hooks his arms under the kid’s, hoisting him up and across his shoulders. He rushes out, the other Golden Dawn boy following close behind, nervous and shaken at the recent string of events. 

Luck stares after them, his eyes focused on the dark haired one, homicidal. Something Yami briefly notes before turning to a concerned Owen. A few other medics rush in, assisting him. 

He doesn’t quite look at Asta when he asks, “Anything I can do, Doc?”

Owen doesn’t even spare him a sigh when he answers, “Leave.”

Yami gives him a two-fingered salute before heading out. 

Vanessa stares at the scene for a moment longer as she gets pushed further aside by the rush of medical staff. But she’s lucid enough that she doesn’t need Yami’s instruction to follow him out the door.

Beyond the door stands Yami’s small group of bulls, minus some necessary contributions, plus two unnecessary headaches. The conscious Golden Dawn boy, carrying the unconscious one now, frowns defensively at them.

Yami narrows his eyes at him, “Take your friend to cool off,” Klaus jumps at being addressed. “and make sure he doesn’t disturb Owen again.” 

The kid nods, producing a respectful, “Yes, sir.” He gives the group a once over before bowing deeply, saying: “I sincerely apologize for any trouble my comrade and I caused you.” 

Like cogs in a machine they work together, wordlessly Vanassa steps forward, flashing him a kind smile once he’d straightened. “Please don’t think anything of it,” she says, lowering her head in turn.

The boy nods, relief evident. He leaves quietly. 

Yami sighs. Now that that’s taken care of, “Gauche, have you made contact with Grey and Charmy?” 

Gauche straightens. “Yes, sir. They plan to meet us in the Common Realm.” 

“Good,” Yami says, a plan forming in his mind. Few people are informed of the situation, which could turn sour if given the chance. More so, they know next to nothing as well. “The Vermillion girl is with Noelle, correct?” 

“She is,” Vanessa confirms.

“Alright.” Yami puts a hand to his chin, pensive. “Make sure your communicators are on, when Noelle wakes we’ll need whatever information she can provide.” Yami looks to his squad already having decided who he’ll take. “Magna, Luck, Gauche, you’re coming with me. Vanessa, Gordon, you’ll stay back. Watch over Noelle and Asta.”

Vanessa’s face twitches briefly as if she were to disagree, but she joins in with the resounding, “Yes, Captain”, which rings about the hall. 

Cob’s magic sounds like bells and looks like a gate to another world.

Magna sighs. He frowns, rubbing his neck. “I feel like I’m cheating on Finral.”

Gauche looks abashed, then says, “Yeah, I see what you’re getting at.” 

“Everyone ready?” The man says cheerfully, a sharp juxtaposition to Finral’s perpetually exhausted sigh. The dichotomy grates against Yami.

Luck cheers, rushing in first, trailed closely by Magna. Gauche follows quietly behind them. Cob gives him a brief look of assurance, which Yami doesn’t appreciate though he’s sure it comes from a good place. He heads into the portal not wanting to see anymore of it. 

Stepping from one realm into the other, the dewy air envelops him, one of the new and crisp variety which accompanies the morning.

Cob appears next to him like an apparition, reminding Yami of his capacity for stealth. He points to the expanse of green beyond them. “Our destination is about seven klicks West of here,” he explains. “We’ll need to portal once or twice more.” 

Yami nods in acknowledgement, his squad gathering close together as Cob opens another gate. They arrive once more atop a different hill, though now close enough to see the large town nestled within a cluster of hills. The forest rests little more than a kilometer away. Without instruction from Yami, Cob takes them straight to the forest’s edge, to which they’re dwarfed by the vegetation. The trees are large and thriving, cloaked in mist and saturated with light and life. 

The air around them pulses with mana, something which disconcerts Yami severely. An atmosphere so dense with mana feels—unnatural.

Looking to him, Yami can see Luck fall into his abilities easily. He closes his eyes taking a fraction of a moment to ascertain Finral’s locus. Then quite literally in a flash, he disappears into the woods.

Magna steps beside him, eyes stuck in the direction where Luck had vanished. “Should we follow him, Capitan?”

Yami crosses his arms. “We’ll wait a minute.” With Lucks sensory abilities finding Finral will predictably be a cinch. However, if Luck fails to contact them soon, they’ll chase after him. The way the mana pushes at him, swirling around him warm and loud. It’s as if the mana were held back by a thin membrane, lurking quietly and brimming with fury. 

_It feels as though traveling into the forest is a death sentence._

Gauche covers his nose with an arm stepping closer to the forest’s edge. He crouches down, analyzing the growth there. “This isn’t anything like the report.” Beyond the edge the grass and trees look distorted, blurry as if in a heat wave.

Before any of them could respond, the air sizzles and cracks, signaling Luck’s abrupt reappearance. He returns empty handed and bizarrely unsmiling. He catches Yami off guard when he says in a solemn way: “I couldn’t find him.”

The group takes a moment to process the information. Breaking the silence, Magna yells at Luck, saying that he must’ve missed him and how could he not be here? Yami is this the right place?

Gauche proposes that they go in and search more carefully, and that of course he has to be there. What are you saying Magna?

Luck looks perplexed, frustrated, and hysterical. It’s one of the three. His mouth had pulled into that unnervingly cheery smile, cloaking his emotions.

Cob stays silent, which is reasonable. 

Yami contemplates the reality of slashing down the entire forest. Surely they’d find him then.

…  
  


Langris frowns. He detests sneaking—it's beneath him. He’s nobility. The Vice Captain of the Golden Dawn. He shouldn’t have to _sneak_ like a furtive commoner. 

With an audible scoff, he shakes off the thought that no one’s forcing him to hide like this. And why should he? The only reason he’s here is to ensure his idiot brother hasn’t shamed the honorable Vaude house by screwing up. And the only reason he’d come personally is because he just so happened to be in the area. If anything his feeble big brother would be overjoyed to see him. 

Realizing this, Langris resolves even further to take no more steps into the medical wing. He grumbles to himself, thinking that there’s no reason for him to be here. He should just leave. Yes, he should leave. He’s well overdue for a good night’s sleep anyway. Besides what good would it do to be seen so unkempt and visibly exhausted? Yes, leaving is good. He’ll just come back some other day—no he’ll send someone in his place, discreetly of course. Yes, he should be leaving.

So why can’t he move?

“Vice Captain?”

Langris doesn’t flinch or make noise at the voice intruding on his thoughts. Because why should he? He’s thinking about no one—nothing. He’s thinking about _nothing_ important. 

Turning around his eyes are met with Mimosa Vermillion. Twice in one day. He wonders if she can feel his disgruntled mood. He’s not sure he cares if she can. She’s high on his list of people he’d rather not see at this time. Mostly because, based on what he’d told her, he was supposed to be at headquarters—him just showing up in the medical wing would likely cause some suspicion. 

She tilts her head in question. “I thought you returned to headquarters.” 

Langris smiles with mock ease. “Yes,” His mind scrambles for an excuse—though she wasn’t really accusing him of anything. “I… forgot something.” 

Mimosa smiles nicely, she says nothing, something he’s acutely aware of. It lasts for a second longer than Langris is comfortable with. Mimosa makes a move to continue down the hall when Langris interjects, a touch frantic. 

He digs himself deeper into this hole—as if he has everything to prove—and he doesn’t notice that she doesn’t care why he’s there. 

“I’d meant to pick up a report. So I returned—here.”

“Oh.” Mimosa’s eyebrows furrow the slightest bit. “I see.” 

Langris fights off a grimace.

Mimosa’s eyebrows furrow a bit more as she puts a concerned hand to her lips saying, “Not to be discourteous, Vice Captain, but you seem tired. Is it—

“Yes, I’ve been planning to rest,” he cuts in, rubbing the back of his neck.

Mimosa nods absently. Her gaze drifts to the side dazedly. Langris gets the feeling she hadn’t heard him. Then abruptly her head snaps up. “Um, well I have to be on my way, Vice Captain.”

Stepping around him she waves. “Good day.” And it’s then he notices that she holds a small bundle of flowers. 

Langris scoffs at the thought which comes to mind. As if _he_ could attract the attention of a royal. 

Despite this—despite the fact that he knows she couldn’t possibly be heading towards Finral—he feels an overwhelming urge to follow her. However, he stops himself from reaching out, gripping his right arm, warning himself against any impulsive movement. 

When she turns the corner he relaxes all at once, slumping against the wall. He runs a hand through his hair, thinking he must be losing his mind. He needs to rest. Interactions with his _subordinates_ should be so taxing. He rubs a palm over his forehead, then to his eyes. Shaking off the tiredness and whatever else seems to have gripped him. 

He grits his teeth, suddenly angry. At himself or something else he couldn’t say. But a thing inside him ripples beneath his skin. He can feel it taint his mind and even then he tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care.

…

Noelle jerks awake. 

She jumps up—too fast as she crashes back into consciousness. The room begins to spin. She immediately regrets that action for a number of reasons. Her back and head—her whole body really—aches something awful. 

Noelle looks around the area with more care this time. The base of her skull pulses dully at her, advising against any lively movement. She searches for anyone to express what she desperately needs to say, but her franticness fizzles out when she spots a figure standing to her far right. 

Nozel. 

His mana feels like cool metal, strong and steely. Upon her noticing of him he stops petting the bundle of bedside flowers in order to pay her mind.

“Brother,” Noelle makes a move to get up. “please you have to help Finral—

He grounds Noelle with a firm hand to her shoulder, it's warm and solid and safe. His collected expression eases the tension in her back. “Don’t be concerned, Noelle. Your Capitan is well aware.” He removes his hand too soon.

“It would be a great disrespect to the healers if you were to undo their work so carelessly.” He inclines his head. “Rest.”

Noelle nods, seeing no issue with his words. Satisfied with that answer Nozel steps back in a move to head out the door. 

His name hangs on her tongue, taunting her with all of the things she can’t say. And with him leaves his calming aura, the protection she feels from her big brother vanishes and already she misses him dearly. 

She frowns, deflating. She should have asked more of the situation. Why did he have to leave so soon?

Thin bands of light filter though the window signaling the day.

_Do you hate me that much?_

Noelle almost slaps herself at the thought. 

As if there’s time for that! She can’t just—sit around. Her friend—her family needs her. She steels herself, clenching her teeth as she pushes off sore arms onto insecure footing. She grips the sheets beneath her, determined. How could she have let herself drift for so long? She should have been there to assist Captain Yami and the others. 

She uses the edge of the bed as a support, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The skin of her forehead pulls taut on itself and she knows if she were to touch there, she’d feel no trace of the split in her head. Her head which aches horribly anew. So much so she has to take a moment to quell the nausea racking her body.

Noelle, in her thoughts, doesn’t hear the door open; but the aghast, “Noelle!”, snatches her out of her mind. Mimosa’s face floods into focus. 

“Noelle.” Mimosa grips her arms, supporting her weight, fluttering about her nervously. “Please lay back down.” 

And though Noelle tries to resist her, Mimosa has advantages over her in multiple senses at this time, succeeding in pushing her back into the pillows.

“Mimosa,” Noelle says, perturbed, grasping the arm which rests atop her shoulder, “where’s my squad? Where’s Asta? Is he alright?”

Mimosa purses her lips tightly for a moment before affirming encouragingly that he’s perfectly well. She smiles kindly. “Owen’s tending to him.” 

She pulls her hand from Noelle’s gently. “And not to worry, they’ve already left to retrieve your squadmate.”

Noelle takes in the information, though there isn’t much.

“The message was terse, but I know two of them stayed here,” Mimosa adds.

She looks up. “Who?”

Mimosa shakes her head. “I’m not sure. Shortly after the Black Bulls left, Klaus requested my assistance for—something.” She looks away. “I believe we just missed each other.”

Noelle notices the bundle of lavender blooms Mimosa holds, thinking she must have picked some for her. Questions die in Noelle’s throat when she sees Mimosa’s gaze trained on the vase of flowers, curiously. She smiles at Noelle, “Who left these?”

Noelle studies the white flowers, the velvety petals cluster together prettily. She thinks they’re called peonies, pulling from the knowledge her cousin forced on her during their years spent as children. “I’m not sure, but Nozel seemed fond of them.”

Mimosa laughs lightly, “Oh, how curious.” She looks to Noelle with bright eyes like always when speaking about the specificities of flowers, plants, symbolisms, subspecies, medicinal properties, historical meanings… 

At Noelle’s questioning look, she explains. “Well, I wouldn’t bring white peonies to wish someone well is all. You see, they symbolize reg…” 

Mimosa stops herself, clearing her throat. “You said Nozel came to visit?”

Noelle nods, not quite sure what she was getting at. Her cousin suddenly looks nervous as if she were intruding on a private matter. Noelle vaguely feels the pieces connect in her head but her brain has yet to register the meaning. 

Then with the opening of a door the train in her mind drives off the tracks and disappears into a swarm of thoughts she deems more important. 

Vanessa holds a mute little tray of food and a water bottle when she walks in. She’s quiet and almost dampened in a way. However, when Noelle’s eyes meet hers, her face animates beautifully. In an instant Vanessa’s by her side, hugging her warmly and petting her hair. Holding her face and hands gently while proclaiming her abundant worry and relief.

Vanessa hugs her once more, whispering a joyous, “Noelle!”, and when she pulls back her eyes are watery with unshed tears.

Noelle’s cold hands are covered with warmth and she tastes salt, feeling hot water trail down her cheeks. 

“Oh,” Noelle looks away from Vanessa. “I’m sorry,” she manages, brushing away the tears as fast as she can, but they replenish themselves quickly. 

“Sorry,” she chokes again as memories come to mind, displaying all the things she associates with crying in front of people. Pain and screaming; derisive laughter and condescending remarks.

Though she fights against it, Noelle flinches when Vanessa reaches out for her.

She removes Noelle’s hand from her face gently and with care, bringing her fingers to her lips in a show of affection. She holds Noelle’s left hand with both of hers simply saying, “Please don’t apologize.”

And Noelle just cries for a few minutes. It feels good as she lets herself feel entirely overwhelmed. It’s great and nice and cathartic to pour out her frustration and anger; her grievances, her pain and insecurity and all the other emotions that follow the memories until she’s raw and empty. Vanessa let’s her, clasping her hand with assurance and understanding and—acceptance.

Noelle holds her scrunched and burning face up, shaking the memories from her mind. She cries a bit more and thinks to herself: _How did I get so lucky?_

After her eyes dry out Vanessa swiftly supplies a bottle of water, stating the importance of hydration. Her throat and mind feel much clearer after that, but her nose runs, stinging the dry skin there.

Noelle’s eyes catch on the door and she wonders who else stayed back. Noticing this Vanessa responds as if reading her mind. “Gordon and I opted out of the mission.” She leans back in her chair, nonchalant.

_That must have been a tough decision._

_“_ Oh,” she says, “Is he with Asta?”

Vanessa snorts. Noelle raises an eyebrow.

She shakes her head, smiling. Vanessa points to an area beside the window. “He’s right there.”

The room, having only been lit by the sunlight allowed through the window, possesses deep shadows. Inside those shadows resides a dark man, blending in easily. Despite herself Noelle thinks it’s a thing of nightmares.

_The man leers at her._

But it’s just Gordon. 

He walks over stiffly, clearly becoming more relaxed as the space closes between them. Noelle smiles at him openly, moving over a bit to allow Gordon a seat on the bed. He takes it and she places a hand atop his. He beams, then whispers something hastily.

It’s something Noelle doesn’t catch, but it’s geniality is clear to her. And she feels her face flush, realizing he’d seen her cry like that. 

Mimosa appears next to Gordon, a narrow glass in her hands containing the lavender flowers. She sets them beside Noelle. 

The bright peonies contrast with the cool lavender, making her feel strangely nostalgic; a persistent memory niggles at the edges of her mind.

She thinks she hears some semblance of a lullaby, but placing its origin is like catching smoke. The more she jumps for it the higher it gets and with each passing moment it dissipates further into the air.

Noelle pulls her gaze from them, returning it to the door. A thought in her mind surfaces. 

She wants to see Asta.

…

If a person has experienced either complete magical exhaustion or heavy intoxication, they’d be unpleasantly surprised to learn that waking up after either feels largely the same.

It’s not a good feeling.

Finral wakes atop a crudely woven straw mat. His head is supported by something cool and flat, sharp at the edges. It digs into his nape. He tries to sit up, only managing a jerk of movement and a whimper before sagging back against the ground. 

He tries shifting his legs and arms which stubbornly refuse to listen and he breathes harshly through his teeth, panicked at his inability to move. His eyes catch the ceiling above him, which isn’t much of a ceiling at all. Packed dirt sits a few feet above him, threaded with roots which dangle down. 

He’s underground.

A horrible thought dawns on him.

This is interrupted by an exclamation of wonder, followed by a high voice proclaiming, “You’re awake!”

Finral hears shuffling although he can’t see much. It all happens behind his head and he lacks the strength to turn around. 

What he assumes is a little girl talks to herself, though it’s at such a rapid pace he only catches every sixth word or so. 

He tries to speak but his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth and his jaw aches far worse than any time he’d been punched before. 

Footsteps approach him and, to his embarrassment, Finral finds himself genuinely frightened. He can do little but watch in silent fear as the child’s face comes into view, confirming his suspicion of it being a girl. One with horribly uneven curly white hair. 

She looks off to the side saying, “See, he’s not dead.”

And if he could Finral would crane his head around to see who else was in the room. He has so many questions but before he can even begin the girl asks some of her own.

She kneels next to him smiling. The kid couldn’t be more than seven. Grinning she holds up a makeshift clay cup. “I’m Otto. What’s your name?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to finals I have decided to live alone in the forest forever, please and thank


End file.
